


LOST IN TRANSLATION

by motgonbk



Category: C9 BOYZ (Band), CIX, Produce 101 (TV), YG Entertainment | YG Family, YG Treasure Box (TV), silver boys - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Cheating, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-29 09:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19827004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motgonbk/pseuds/motgonbk
Summary: Midam is married to the most wonderful woman he (or his parents) can ask for. And he is gay. But he can hold on for the rest of his life.Until a certain Kim Seunghun comes across.





	1. lost

She has a night shoot, and he is sick of fancy hotel wallpaper wherever his eyes lay on.

God, in form of the old taxi driver with distinct Japanese accent, takes the wheel and leads him to that LED, unmistakable Hangul sign in middle of vibrant neon lights of Kanji.

_“HONEYS PUB”._

The pub is quiet and empty, but warm with yellow lightning and old-school SOUL music. The inside is tight and cozy even without a living creature in sight, as hinted by the narrow door and humble sign.

Not that he minds much.

All he wants is some shots of really bitter and strong whisky, and, maybe if lucky enough, some hometown-like sounds. A hometown-like sound that is not hers: not like a multilayered, unreadable, spiceful, tear-jerking onion.

There seems to be no guests but a broad shoulder facing out from behind the stall with alcohol stacked up.

He is baffled for a moment between speaking Korean or trying to start up with his two-day-learnt Japanese. His Korean, though, unfilteredly spills out first.

“Hi.”

The man behind the bar turns to face him with a brief confusion on his face, but quickly flashes a bright smile. A bit too bright to greet some random moron who goes drinking at two in the morning, even.

“Hello.”

The young man gestures him to sit by the bar, his blinding smile not dimming down for a second.

The guest settles himself down on the chair with hesitation.

The server or owner or who-the-hell-he-can-be reaches out with a worn-out menu.

“My apology. It’s rather late now, so the chef is not here. Can’t order any foods, I guess.” His awkward voice suggests long time of not speaking Korean on a regular basis, but still comprehensive. “I live alone, and therefore there’s only packed sushi and instant noodle. Should have some still if you wanna have strong alcohol.”

The enthusiasm flusters him.

“Ah, I’ve already eaten. Not gonna have sore stomach. I’ll just have a bottle of Hibiki 21, please.”

The taller man – he realizes now that they are standing near – nods with that stupid smile still (did he mention he is allergic to smiles?). 

The bottle is put down next to the signature shot glass for whisky. He pours himself a full glass, and the other is gone by the moment he looks up. Man, how weird of himself. Clearly in need of some company, yet he pushes the only potential companion of a fool away by appearing distant.

The forementioned “fool” must be determined to prove the opposite, footsteps soundly storming from behind as he takes second sip.

There he is – _how could his cheek muscles not be tired of smiling so widely all the time?_ – with boxes of must-be-sushi and packs of noddle stacked up on his very wide arms.

“I understand how you think you’re full. Trust me, so does everyone before having alcohol torturing their empty stomach. Now, do you want sushi or ramyun as the treat from me?” “… Ramyun.” That smirk.

That damned, victorious smirk.

He wishes he could explain it. He wishes he is not the only one who would wonder where the joy could be in force-feeding an out-of-mind midnight-drinker.

The drinker assumes the other would just disappear again to cook the noodle, but he pulls out a saucepan from beneath the counter and heats up some water right there, taking away the potential moment of privacy that his guest would like to pretend to need. He is about to fill up his glass, but the owner stops him midway.

“Hey, wait for a while and eat a bit first.”

Putting down the glass, his arms suddenly feel way too unbusy.

As if able to sense the tension, the friendly weirdo invites himself into his sight again.

“My name is Kim Seunghun. Yours?”

“Lee Midam.”

“I’m 28.”

“I’m 30.”

“You’re a hyung then.”

“No need of formalities.”

“So hyung, are you a traveler?”

“Could say so.”

“Could?”

“Mainly escorting my wife on her business.”

“Woah.” His big eyes widen, mouth drops. “Dedicated, aren’t you? Not every husband is as open-minded.”

He hates how his mind automatically “reads” the double-meaning of compliments like this.

That he is weak. He is her shadow. He is inferior compared to the wife he never deserves.

He might be used to feigning a half-smile in respond, but not feigning feeling alright with it.

He pours another. Third cup seems successful in igniting the last fragile bit of confidence that he can hold onto.

“How long have you been in Japan?”

He hopes changing the subject would take away any chance for the younger to make fun of his weak self.

“Four years or so. I dated a guy, a Japanese exchange student, back in college. After two years he left for Japan and I followed, putting all I had into the pub. We broke up two years ago. The pub actually is doing better than it looks, and also a rare place for Koreans to hang out. I don’t wanna take it away from them.”

He looks totally nonchalant about it, as if spending a life on a spontaneous college romance is nothing big. Being stupidly in love, Midam can’t tell if it is good or not. He has not even been sincerely in love for once.

That passing thought tightens his heart.

Guilt raises. He _promised_ to love her.

The scent of strong spice pulls him out of the train of thoughts.

“Eat up. You’ve drank a lot.”

The cup of noodle is bright red, smoke smelling spicy and hot; not mild or even sweet like those he has been having for days at the hotel. His eyes feel hot too. Could be the noodle, could be just tears.

“Want an egg, too?”

He looks up to meet, again, those ridiculously generous eyes. He swallows, muttering a “yes”.

The owner – Seunghun, the name finally sinks into him - cracks not an egg but two, in addition to a slice of ham. The guest wonders if this is too much of a favor to receive.

This young man, despite the previous “compliment” leaving him with a bit of bitter taste on the tip of the tongue, still seems rather childishly silly than mean at heart.

Midam drives the other from one topic to another, while pouring himself one drink to another. With not bad at all tolerance, God knows how many shots he takes to end up knocked down asleep without knowing.

* * *

Midam wakes up in a room that clearly is not his hotel room – spacious and clean but with grey exposed brick walls and posters which seem like they belong to a teenager in the 90-something. His head hurts badly, and all arms and legs ache. Still, after a moment, he figures out where he could be.

His phone lays next to the table lamp. Two missed calls from her.

The younger man walks in with a plate of pancakes on his hands, only to almost gets bumped into by the rushing guest.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He pulls out a thick stack of cash, certainly no less than the alcohol and noodle’s worth, and throws on the tray the other is carrying.

“Thank you.” 

* * *

Quietly walking through the hotel door, he bets she is still catching up on sleep to make up for the all-night shoot. He kneels down by her in between of fluffy white sheets. She looks exhausted, for sure, but still glows as she always does, being the admired beauty she is.

The smell of cologne that he never uses fills his nose, and he hates himself instantly.

Who is he to doubt her?

Who is she for him to own?

To trust and to love her is what he does, unconditionally, isn’t it?

He tries to be as gentle as possible with laying a peck on her soft cheek, but still she moves suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Did I disturb your nap?”

With her sleep-deprived voice, she ignores his question. “Where were you earlier?”

“A pub.” He thinks back about the two missed calls. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I was concerned about you staying in all the time too. Just text me next time.”

“Got it.”

He lovingly pulls her messily falling bang behind her ear.

“Was the shooting too tiring?”

“The female lead couldn’t act to save her life. She got on my nerve.”

“Can’t you guys just replace her?”

“She’s the face of the brand, what do you mean with “replace”?”

“Right, silly me again.” He gives an apologetic smile. “It’s just commercial film after all. As long as it won’t leave a big stain on your filmography, try not to stress out too much, okay?”

“It’s just that, being a director, I can’t help feeling disgusted by those terrible asses who dare to call themselves actors.”

She sits up with a slight pout on the plump delicious lips, her arms reaching for him, looking like a kitten waiting to be spoiled.

The husband pulls her onto his laps and gives a tight embrace. “You’ve worked hard.”

As bad at sweet talk as he is, he can only wish this is acceptable for her.

* * *

The commercial filming has finally come to an end, and tonight is when the wrap-up party takes place.

He insists on hand-washing and ironing her outfit himself, worried that laundry service would carelessly mess up her expensive dress and possibly her big night.

She is putting on earrings by the mirror table, her gorgeousness only complimented by careful makeup.

“Go out and have some fun, would you?” Long, delicate fingers brushes the wavy hair behind her ear. “I would feel guilty going out if you won’t stop trapping yourself in this boring hotel.”

His eyes don’t dare leave the velvet poncho. “No worries. It’s your business trip, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t know since when she has been in front of him, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his nose.

“Thank you.”

He sends his beautiful wife to the taxi.

Back in the room, his stomach slightly growls. An eat-out night before leaving Japan wouldn’t hurt, would it?

His favorite denim jacket, after three days of completely no intention of going out, only now he realizes, is missing. Guess he has no choice but to return to the pub.

* * *

“Closed?”

He dumbfoundedly stands in front of the pub’s door. Luckily, that’s when the owner walks out.

“Midam hyung?”

Alright, maybe not so lucky so.

Now that they’re face to face, he realizes he didn’t want to face this man again for some reason.

“Hi. My apology but-”

“The black denim jacket, isn’t it?” 

The taller drags him inside and pushes him down the couch, despite his protest going something along the line of “leaving immediately”. The owner rushes upstairs, leaving the newcomer wishing with all his will to fled as soon as possible.

The younger returns with the jacket. “I wanted to call but you didn’t leave your number…”

“Thank you for taking care of it on my behalf, this is great enough of you.” Midam shoots up from his seat and snatches the jacket. “I would excuse myself now.”

“Where are you heading to after this?”

“…To eat.”

“I’m going out to eat with some friends, all Korean frequent customers. You should come along.”

At this point he can only question the limit of this man’s generosity. 

“No need. You guys please have fun.”

“We’re going to a Korean BBQ restaurant. Really good. Now that you’re in Japan, gotta try Korean BBQ in here for once, don’t you?”

“… What kind of logic is this?”

Seunghun’s puppy face lits up. “You are going, aren’t you?”

Unreasonable guilt raises up inside although he truly doesn’t want anything more to do with the younger.

He can’t deny a bit of bond to the formerly stranger now.

* * *

“Here is Choi Hyunsuk, and this Japanese native kid is Noa. There is also Raesung, and Jihoon and Junkyu.”

The very reserved Midam quickly gets dizzy of overly enthusiastic hands and looks.

“And this is Lee Midam hyung, a frequent customer. He lives in Korea and is only here for travelling, so I wanna take him around.”

Midam raises his eyebrows in anticipation for someone to question how “frequent” of a customer he is, so that he can explain that he has only been to the pub once – twice if you count today’s intended comeover. But, the group of friends seem oddly familiar to their utterly kind and trusting friend to pick up random Korean tourists that he meets, showing nothing but hospitality on their faces.

Hyunsuk, easily recognized due to bright blonde hair, cuts up some meat and places them into his plate.

“Eat up, eat a lot, please. The more awkward you are, the more you gotta eat to feel less tensed.” 

Great, now he questions his knowledge of “opposites attract”. The free-spirited and out-going Seunghun has friends of similar characteristics; that’s why the introvert, antisocial himself is friends to the silly coward Jeon Woong and the old man Lee Byounggon?

“Thank you.” He says, hoping his polite nature doesn’t make him look arrogant.

Greasy and tender pork belly melts onto his tongue. Doesn’t taste quite different from the Japanese BBQ he accompanied her to a few days ago, if he is honest, but the noisy sounds of Korean make up the difference.

The pretty boy, (what his name is, Jookyu?) speaks with his meatful mouth, “Karaoke afterward?”

Good Lord. Would these fun-loving, energetic kids leave his old man ass out of their second round?

“Midam hyung, come along please?” Seunghun grabs him arms with his eyes sparkling in all of their puppy glory.

God must be too occupied to take care of him today.

Tbc.


	2. found

The younger guys take (read: drag) him to a karaoke place, eventually. The so-called karaoke looks rather like a basement for college party, except for the fact that it is placed on top floor of a building, large windows looking over lavish city scenery. The group merges with another one of about 10 native boys and girls, as Seunghun explains, “The more the merrier”.

They order 5 packs of beer at once, which concerns the assumedly oldest deeply.

“It’s alright, hyung, I promise.” Says Seunghun while popping his fourth can of beer, ironically. “I’ll just order two or three cabs for everyone later on, okay? Gonna get you back to the hotel safe and sound.”

The seriousness in his voice reminds Midam of his American friend back in the time he was an exchange student at NYU. That one friend who, too, insisted he would be alright and take a cab home after eight rounds of beer pong (seriously, as small as those red cups look, no one ever knows what was mixed into), and ended up sleeping with his crush in an one-night-stand only to never face her again. Sure, it was much better than driving under influence; but still it proved to him that there are more than one way for a drunk night to go wrong.

He flicks the puppy – don’t get him wrong, they’re not that close, but everyone calls the younger that – on the forehead. “Even if you can prevent dying in a DUI case, you cannot prevent dying due to alcohol poisoning. Slow down on the drinks, won’t you?”

“Says the one who passed out at the pub the other day.” Seunghun says with a pout, side-eyeing the older man.

Midam blushes furiously. And no he’s not embarrassed. He’s just holding back with all his mental strength the urge to kick the smug off of that annoying(ly cute) face.

Noa and Jook – Junkyu, luckily he didn’t say it out loud, as he has had enough of Seunghun’s pinches in the waist about this – are doing a duet version of Sober by BIGBANG, he can only guess, cause they are absolutely not sober. The drunkenly wiggling-shouting duo and the no less drunkenly cheerful audience make it impossible for him to hold back the parent-like smile that has been on the verge of cracking for a while now.

While giggling back and forth, he suddenly turns to meet Seunghun’s eyes. Adoring, sweet, charmed eyes.

He feels his cheeks warm up. Again, no he’s not embarrassed. He’s just holding back with all his mental strength the urge to kick the smug off of that annoying(ly cute) face.

Midam turns away and fans himself to ease off the heat sneaking up his face. A finger pokes on the warm and definitely red cheek.

“You haven’t even sing a song.”

“I’m good… I’m not a good singer, and plus they’re having fun.”

“You should have your fun too.” The puppy-like man shoves the songbook onto his lap, face showing determination to refuse to accept any “no”.

“…”

* * *

They settle for “Way Back Into Love” with Seunghun excitedly inviting himself along as it happens to be his favorite song too. And that’s how Midam ends up in his position right now, can’t escape the younger’s eyes staring into his, the whole world suddenly blank and quiet.

_“I've been living with a shadow overhead_

_I've been sleeping with a cloud above my bed”_

Seunghun takes a step toward him, and now they must be less than three steps apart.

_“I've been lonely for so long_

_Trapped in the past_

_I just can't seem to move on”_

Two steps.

_“I've been hiding all my hopes and dreams away_

_Just in case I ever need them again someday”_

One step.

_“I've been setting aside time_

_To clear a little space in the corners of my mind”_

The tips of their shoes touch.

_“All I want to do is find a way back into love_

_I can't make it through without a way back into love…”_

And the tips of their noses touch too. The mint scent from his breath a few inches away.

Too close.

Too fucking close.

Too fucking close for Midam.

Too fucking close for his heart who definitely knows it misses its beat for the man he’s facing.

Too fucking close for his plan which is to never remember again that he likes boys and just be satisfied with the life they had set up for him.

Too fucking close, because he knows he’s only inches away from falling in.

So he does what makes the most sense to him at the moment.

He runs away. Out of the room. Leaving behind incomprehensive shouts and calls of his name. Trying to escape the sounds of footsteps that follow. Hoping that the noises that remind him of that moment will quiet down and he will be able to clear his mind, ending the night without lingering thoughts and feelings for the man he’s not supposed to fall in love with.

* * *

Midam ends up on the couch in some hallway that he thinks is on a floor below, a dark corner with a mirror oddly placed in front of him. His face is buried onto his palms, and he can feel tears staining the shaky hands.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He can’t keep count of how many times he has cursed himself, and how many it would take to take up the guilt that weighs down his chest.

His throat sores of trying to hold back sobs instinctively, even though he knows that there should be no one around.

A cold and wet feeling applies on his messed up hair.

“If I apologize, would you please take a sip of water and calm down? I will leave immediately afterward.”

Midam refuses to raise his head, recognizing the voice too well. “Please assure them that I’m okay.”

A weight pushes down onto the other side of the couch. “Are you really tho?”

“No.” The older knows that Seunghun can read him by now, so why pretending.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s really not.”

“If so, won’t you remove your hands please? You’re gonna suffocate.”

“…” Midam lifts his head up hesitantly.

He is staring at the mirror now. On one side of the mirror, inside of the room next to the couch he’s sitting on, there are a couple kissing deeply. The girl traps the guy onto the wall, her long wavy hair falling down the exposed back of the velvet red dress.

The dress that he carefully hand-washed and ironed earlier.

“So this is what you wanted me to look up to?” He recalls of the sounds of Seunghun’s footsteps that actually followed him all the way here but didn’t approach him directly.

“I’m sorry.”

“How do you know?”

“I searched for your name to find your social media account. I found out who your wife is instead. She’s famous, you know.”

“And?”

“I saw her when following you through the hall on the other side. You was too occupied with crying to notice.”

“I would rather you have ignored her, or for better, me to begin with.”

“You would love to be deceived?”

“I would love to be in peace.”

“And deceived?”

“Not really deceived. If you had seen her online, I assume you had seen rumors around her too.”

“So you know about all that?”

“I’m old but not from the Ice Age.” Midam finally turns to face Seunghun, a bitter cold smirk formed on his lips.

“I wish I could have been that nonchalant when finding out that my ex cheated on me.”

“Damn, why did you leave that out of the story when you first told me? Really drama-worthy.”

The younger hisses. “I didn’t try to make you feel less guilty only for you to turn on me like that.”

Midam’s laugh sounds more like a sigh.

“You wanna go back to the hotel?”

“No. I would love some more drinks in peace actually.”

Seunghun wraps his hand around an ice-cold can of beer.

“Back-up plan, huh?”

“Plan A works for some, plan B works for others. I kinda expected this one to work better for you though.”

“Let’s go somewhere else, shall we? It’d be even more awkward to face her at this moment.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

Three cans of beer later, at two in the morning, they take the cab home.

Midam squeezes himself onto Seunghun’s chest, seeking for a bit of warmth and the scent of whichever-perfume-he-uses-and-beer mixture. He can’t afford to care much anymore, now that she has reminded him the lack of love is two-sided. The younger is half way through passing out too, his eyes barely managing to remain opened to make sure Midam gets to the hotel safely as he promised, despite the other assuring he can fall asleep.

They get there eventually though, and still Seunghun insists with his half-sober voice to watch the older check-in to his room. At the reception, they face the people they love to see the least at the moment.

His wife, with her disheveled hair and ripped stocking flashing underneath the slit of the dress, and a man next to her. Midam acknowledges well that he is, too, with a strange man right now, yawning next to him and almost sleeping on the reception table; but still he feels awkward.

The married couple’s eyes meet. Each of them gives a slight smile.

She turns to the lover – Midam wonders suddenly, how long it would last this time – and gives him a peck on the nose, then one on the lips, all while fully acknowledging her husband watching. She’s completely adapted to this kind of situation already.

“Shameless, isn’t she?”

The honey voice from behind startles him.

“Quiet.”

“I’m not gonna be qu-”

“It’s alright, I don’t love her too.”

He doesn’t even realize the words slip out of his mouth for the first time in forever.

“Then why do you stick around?”

“It’s-it’s complicated!”

* * *

Blank, blank, and some more blanks in his memory, now he’s in this suffocating hotel room again with his arranged wife for life.

“Who was that man? He’s good-looking.”

“Erm, a friend.”

“Is he a traveler too? Will you guys date when we’re back in Seoul?”

“No, he lives and works here.”

“Sucks.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because you never date. I’m just kinda curious if you have turned from gay to asexual.”

“Is it that all?”

“Okay, fine.” She has finally done changing into sleepwear, flopping down on the coach next to bed. “I just wanna make sure you know what it’ll take to have a relationship in this situation we are in.”

“For example, you gotta beware of your surrounding. We are pretty influential, and scandals would have bad effects on jobs and reputation.”

“Was you beware of that while making out of him today? At the karaoke and in front of reception table? And all those guys you had scandals with before too?”

She turns around to face his cold, nonchalant eyes, with cold, nonchalant eyes to match. “Look, as happy as I am for us to not have to act like we’re in love when in private, it doesn’t mean that this is gonna be easy. For you, not me, as you know I’ve been alright all this time. People gets over it, believing it’s an obligation to have one fling or two when you’re beautiful and famous, you know?”

She gets up and pours two glasses of wine, handing him one. “Think. If it’s revealed that you’re gay, it will only affect you. People would think of me as an unhappy wife who was forced into being a cover, and all my previous scandals would suddenly make senses. And you? You would be accused of trapping and using me. It’s no good, isn’t it?”

“Smart of you.” He smiles with sarcasm.

“Of course it would be great to get rid of this marriage, but then what will it cost? Your parents who literally spent millions to have me married to you would be unhappy. You would face criticism toward your sexuality. Me? I’ll be free. The loss is all yours, I have always told you.”

The wine tastes extra bitter on his tongue. “You’re right.”

“It looks like you understand now. You want peace, and settlement, and to please your family and the society, don’t you?”

Midam chugs down the rest of his wine in one shot. “Yes I do.”

* * *

They’re back in Seoul two days later as planned. As the perfect couple they always have appeared to be.

Midam blocks Seunghun’s number during the rest of his time in Japan, can’t afford to be swung by sweet words and adoring eyes anymore.

Byounggon calls him a week after his arrival.

“Urgent. It really is. Please be there.”

“How urgent can it be and, again, what the hell does it have to do with me?”

“It has everything to do with you, I promise. And I’m getting my head chopped off if you won’t show up.”

“… If someone is gonna chop off your head, just call the goddamn cop.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be there. Just text me the date and time and address.”

Midam would actually not give a damn if Byounggon’s head is falling down. He’s just sick of fifty calls a day, and finally gives in at day 7.

* * *

Midam is at the café where the “urgent business” is supposed to take place, dressed up in oversized blouse and jeans because Byounggon insists that, although urgent, the business won’t be so formal. It’s not like people would have any formal business with a street fashion photographer anyway.

He orders himself a vanilla latte and an almond vanilla cupcake while waiting. A person walks in, and although Midam is praying mentally that they are not here for him, he knows they are.

Kim Seunghun.

Seunghun slips onto the chair in front of him with the signature pout, as if Midam has not cut off all tights with him but missed a playdate.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You need to stop saying sorry about everything.”

“So-sorry, oh well.”

“My gosh, you worried me to death!”

“Huh?”

“What’s with that “huh”?”

“You worried about me?”

The betrayed looks Seunghun gives makes him want to take his words back immediately.

“So-”

“You are ridiculous.”

“…”

“I understand if you don’t wanna go further, but a goodbye would not have cost a thing.”

“It’s my fault.”

Seunghun crosses his arms and puckers his lips childishly.

Midam sighs. “My treat, okay?”

Now the silly smile has slightly formed on his face.

“But you did not threaten to chop off my friend’s head and fly all the way here for a goodbye treat, did you?”

“First of all, I didn’t threaten Byounggon, okay? I believe Hyunsuk still has beef with him since they broke up back in college.”

Midam gasps. “Didn’t know that.”

“Second of all, I did fly here to meet you though.”

Midam suddenly feels shyness hit again, so he lowers his head.

“Please look at me.”

Seunghun sounds sincere and selfless as he always does. His words make Midam fluster: he knows he will fall again. But they also make him brave.

“What now?”

“I wanna confirm your feelings toward me. If you can’t do it for me, do it for you. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I really like you but I won’t-”

“Have you been having any since you left me?”

Either “yes” or “no” would be a lie.

“Yes” would be one as he promises to just settle down and leave what happened in Tokyo behind.

“No” would be one as he knows all so well that he won’t be able to get rid of it soon.

“I’ve had, and I don’t want to…”

“Then you don’t’ have to.”

“I’m sorry but what if it won’t work even when I’m with you?” Midam’s voice shakes and his eyes are getting teary. “What if life won’t work our way? I’m not you, you know that, that I’m not as courageous and strong and loving as you are… What if I go to you but then give up midway through and hurt us both-”

“Then it will be it.” Seunghun speaks with determination. “Life throws at us sticks and stones all the times, who on earth won’t get hurt once or twice to find happiness?”

Midam bites his lips and shivers.

“I’m sorry, hyung.” The younger takes the lead again. “But I have to say this or I will hold onto regret like I have been throughout last week. And you, too, please give yourself a chance.”

Seunghun stands up and wipes tears that are on the verge of falling. “I’m leaving tomorrow, hyung.” He puts down a piece of paper. “Here’s my number in Korea. Please call me after you think it through. And if it takes longer than a day to do that, you know where to find me.”

Midam doesn’t dial that number.

* * *

It’s two in the morning again, and Seunghun can’t sleep. He’s anxious. It’s been three months since he left Korea, and two since the news has surfaced.

Where can he be? What can he be doing? His Midam hyung.

The young man is laying in his room with laptop on his lap, strolling through the news to make guesses of how the process has gone. The soft street lights shine through the large windows of the rooftop room.

He stares out the windows and away from the laptop screen for a moment, seeking a break of mind. A taxi suddenly arrives and is parked across the street.

Seunghun has never run so fast in his life, quite literally flying downstairs and to the door. Midam is comfortably seated by his bar counter, luggage stacking up below his chair.

“I’ve been waiting.”

“You’ve seen the news?”

“Of course I did. How’s the divorce going?”

Midam walks toward him. “Quite well. I think we’re both relieved. My parents pretty much disown me though.”

“I’m sorry.” Seunghun pats his hair.

“You need to stop saying sorry about everything.” Midam mocks. “But really, don’t be. I expected this.”

“You’re brave now.”

“Way too brave even. Now I’m in a country whose language I don’t speak, with no fortune and no chunks of money and, most importantly, no place to live.” The older raises his eyebrows mischievously. “I wonder who will take responsibility.”

Seunghun pulls him into an embrace. “ _Live in my house, I'll be your shelter.”_

“Did I mention I have no money?”

_“Just pay me back with one thousand kisses~”_

“Hold the fuck up, did you just quote “RENT”?”

“It fits the situation! And plus I’m serious!”

“Okay. How and when do you take your payment?”

“One for everynight.”

Midam gets on his tiptoe and kisses the taller deeply. “That’s for tonight then.”

“And tip?”

“Who wants tip together with rent?”

“But-”

The older’s soft lips cover over Seunghun’s. “That’s for free.”

end.


End file.
